


Sunset

by loves_books



Category: A-Team - All Media Types, The A-Team (2010)
Genre: Cuddling, Future-fic, M/M, Marriage, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 04:58:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loves_books/pseuds/loves_books
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twenty years after the A Team were pardoned, an aging Templeton reflects on his life with his husband John as they watch the sunset.</p><p> </p><p>(Warning: this wasn't written as a deathfic but I've had feedback that some people have read it as such. If such stories are not for you, please don't read this.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunset

“It’s so beautiful out here. So peaceful.”

Smiling, he had to agree with his husband’s simple statement. It really was one of the most beautiful places he’d ever seen, in a long life filled with travel and adventure and exotic locations. And the best part was that this view was all theirs – there were times, even now, when he couldn’t quite believe it, still expecting to have to go on the run all over again and leave it all behind them, even after so many years of peace.

“It’s perfect,” he murmured softly in agreement, dropping his head back to rest on a strong shoulder. “You chose well, John.”

A deep chuckle rumbled through his husband’s chest and into his back where they were pressed together so closely. “Only the best for you, Templeton.” 

He had to smile again at that, even as he let his eyes drift closed for a second, shutting out that view. He knew it so well, now, that he could still see it in his mind’s eye: the golden sand of the beach, the soft surf rolling onto the shore, the beautiful red and gold of the sunset as another peaceful day drifted to an end. They nearly always sat out here at sunset, on the sheltered deck of their little house, nestled together on the overstuffed porch swing and snuggled beneath a warm blanket against the early evening chill.

“You spoil me, husband,” he mumbled with a smile, even as the older man tightened those still-strong arms around his waist gently, pulling him closer.

“Too right I do,” came the swift response, and he heard everything that his husband didn’t say in those simple words. John had been the one to find this house for them, when the time had finally come to retire fully and step back from the world. A simple little house, just two bedrooms and one bathroom with an open plan living area, all on one level now that Templeton couldn’t really manage stairs by himself anymore. This huge deck leading straight onto the beach had been the icing on the cake, and he had loved the house dearly from the first moment John had brought him here. The perfect home for them both, near enough to Murdock, Bosco and their growing family, yet isolated enough for the quiet they craved more than anything after lives lived in a state of near-chaos for so long.

He blinked opened his eyes again, staring out at the horizon in wonder as the sky began to change yet again as the sun sank lower, the shades of gold giving way to deep purples and reds, the sea constantly moving and reflecting the myriad of colours even as the sound of the waves crashing softly on the shore drifted up to their old ears. Neither of them had lost much of their hearing as they grew older together, despite so many explosions over the years, though John wore glasses all the time now much to his younger husband’s delight – those incredible blue-grey eyes looked amazing behind simple glass rectangles, framing his handsome face perfectly.

Now, Templeton heaved a soft sigh, smiling as his thoughts wandered back to the view before them. “It really is so beautiful.” 

A gentle kiss was pressed to his forehead. “You’re the beautiful one, Templeton.”

“Hardly.” The passing of the years had mostly been kind to them both, but he knew he wasn’t the handsome man he’d been in his youth. They both had laughter lines – never ‘wrinkles’, he hated that word with a passion – mainly around their eyes and their lips, not to mention age spots on their hands and elsewhere. John’s silver hair had thinned a little, though he still wore it in the same short style he had always kept, while Templeton’s had finally gone grey almost overnight just a few short years ago. He’d hated it at first, dying it for a short time much to his husband’s amusement, before eventually accepting the inevitability of it all and just dealing with it – he wore it longer now, still thick and full, his waves more pronounced, and John loved combing his fingers through it repeatedly. As he was doing now, Templeton noted with another smile, leaning further into the older man’s gentle touch.

“Always beautiful to me,” John murmured softly as his fingers kept moving, voice gravelly with both age and emotion. “My beautiful boy.”

“Not so much a boy anymore, John.” He was nearing seventy now, while his husband was well into his eighties, not that anyone could tell. John had aged better than any of them – apart from a bit of a paunch around his middle, he still had the same long and lean body he’d always had, and thanks to two knee replacements and a hip replacement, he still moved as gracefully as he ever had. Templeton, on the other hand…

“Still my boy, baby.” Those arms tightened briefly around him before loosening again carefully, and another kiss was pressed to his forehead. “Always my boy.”

A whole lifetime they’d been together, since Templeton really was little more than a boy, and he marvelled again at how perfectly everything had worked out for them in the end. Their own home, together, married at long last. Family and friends close by. Free men. If only they could have more time – no, he cut that thought off before it could take root and grow into despair. There was no place for sorrow here; they’d had more time together than either of them could ever have hoped for. More than he felt he’d ever deserved.

“No regrets, John?” he asked instead, keeping his gaze trained on the horizon as the sun dropped further still. Behind him, he felt his lover fall still, and sensed those stunning if short-sighted eyes suddenly focus on him with a burning intensity. They didn’t talk like this, not really. They didn’t need to, not after everything they’d been through together. There was little left to be said between them that hadn’t already been told.

“Not a single one, sweetheart. Nothing.” John’s voice was so quiet he had to strain to hear it, but the passion and the honesty was clear in his husband’s words. “I couldn’t regret anything that led me here to this moment with you in my arms.”

“I wonder, sometimes…” He let his voice trail off, frowning slightly, not knowing how to phrase his thoughts. “It’s not a regret. I have no regrets either, none, but I wonder… If I’d just given in and jumped you all those years ago, back when I first stood in front of you in your tent in Iraq…”

Another low chuckle, and he felt some of the tension leave his husband’s strong body as John relaxed further back into the cushions. “I don’t know, kid. I don’t know if we’d have made it here together, not in one piece. You were such a brat back then.”

“Thought I was still a brat now, old man?” Old, familiar teasing – they’d done this dance for decades now, more than half a century in fact, and if that wasn’t enough to send his head reeling…

“My brat.” A firm kiss into his hair, followed by a whispered, “And less of the ‘old’ please, Templeton.”

“You’re my old man,” he reassured his husband quickly, though he could hear the smile in John’s voice. “I wouldn’t change anything, baby. But I wanted you so much; you were the most amazing man I’d ever seen. I was so scared of you, though, at the same time. I’d heard such unbelievable stories – the incredible Major Hannibal Smith, the best Ranger there ever was.”

That old nickname, so rarely spoken between them now. Hannibal belonged to another life, though of course he would always be a part of John, just as Face was always deep inside Templeton. Another lifetime, so many years of history lived and loved since those days – they had been just John and Templeton for so long now, though sometimes they whispered together in the darkest hours of the night. Whispered of Hannibal and Face, and the A Team.

“I shouted at you for nearly half an hour, for conning the General’s aide.” His husband took over the narrative, deep voice warm with the memories. “You were the cockiest, rudest recruit I’d ever met. But there was something… I wanted you too, you know. But you were too young, too raw…”

“Worth the wait.” He twisted in John’s arms slightly, enough to meet his husband’s lips in a gentle kiss. “It was worth the wait, all those years. We were better people for it. I know I certainly was.” Nearly ten years they’d waited, both of them not realising the other felt the same. It wasn’t until after Charissa that they’d finally fallen into each other’s arms, each of them needing comfort for different reasons, amazed to discover their feelings were mutual. Apart from those terrible six months in prison, they’d never been apart for more than a day or two since then.

John kissed him again, before settling his chin on Templeton’s hair. A comfortable silence grew between them, broken only by the sound of the waves still crashing to the shore and the occasional bird calling as the evening drew closer around them. “You’re sure?” John murmured after a time, sounding unsure for the first time. “Really, no regrets? Even here, now, just the two of us…?”

He knew immediately what his husband was getting at, and he smiled as he buried his face into John’s strong chest, resting his ear over that steady and reassuring heartbeat. So different from the one he could feel fluttering beneath his own breast. “Just the two of us,” he repeated softly, breathing in his husband’s familiar smell. “I don’t regret that at all. How could I?”

They’d talked about kids, about adoption or fostering. Back when their pardons had first come through, back in those whirlwind months more than two decades ago when everything had changed once more and they’d had to come to terms with no longer being on the run, they’d talked about it long and hard. The pardons had come as a surprise, in the end – no big deal, no fuss, just a simple press release and it was suddenly over. A change in government, a silent acknowledgement that the original charges against them were bogus, and the A Team were free men. No compensation or pensions offered, but Templeton had invested small amounts of money wisely over their years on the run, and all four of them found they could settle down and live relatively comfortable lives. 

At first, they’d all carried on as they had done during their long years fleeing the MPs. Soldiers of fortune, legitimate now, with a website and a direct phone-line rather than subtle ads placed in select newspapers. But it hadn’t lasted – none of them were getting any younger, and first Bosco had wanted to spend more time with his aging Mama, then Murdock wanted to set up a flying school of his own. Templeton had needed to go home to LA when his old mentor Father Maghill became suddenly ill, and somehow they’d never started it all up again, drifting quietly into normal lives instead, though the two couples settled only a few streets apart, still closer than family to each other. John had proposed six months after the elderly priest had been laid to rest, and they were married in a simple ceremony a few weeks later.

He had been so determined he wanted to adopt, once they were finally able to. At first John had been unsure, and they’d talked back and forth about it for a long time, neither man wanting to make the other unhappy. Templeton knew his husband had been scared, more than anything, though of course the great Hannibal Smith couldn’t use those words. John hadn’t thought he would know what to do with a child after spending most of his adult life in the military, and he was already in his sixties by then, starting to feel his age just a little. By the time he’d come around to the idea, it had been Templeton who wasn’t so sure – was it so selfish, after spending most of their relationship having to hide their love from the world, to want some more time just for the two of them? Then they’d got a dog, and then Murdock and Bosco adopted the twins, and they settled for being the world’s coolest uncles. 

“I don’t regret anything,” he whispered again, closing his eyes and letting his husband take all his weight. “I’m just so glad I’m here with you, love.”

“Temp? Are you – ?” John managed to stop himself, just, and he had to smile even in his exhaustion, answering the unasked question anyway. 

“I’m okay, baby.” He sat up a little straighter, feeling the older man draw the blanket closer around them both when he settled again. Although, maybe, thinking about it… “Perhaps I should, y’know. Maybe.”

With a minimum of fuss, his husband swiftly lifted his little oxygen tank up beside them and helped Templeton get hooked up. As soon as the flow was turned on, he felt his breathing ease and his skittish heartbeat settled a fraction – sometimes he didn’t realise how bad it was getting until John pointed it out in his own subtle way, knowing after all these years which things not to make a big deal out of. Damn, how he hated this. 

“Just breathe for a moment, Temp.” John kissed his forehead again, fussing with the blanket until Templeton stopped him with a simple gesture. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.” One big hand slipped beneath his shirt and came to rest over his heart, the warmth more soothing than the oxygen could ever be. He needed this so much, needed this direct contact, could never get enough of it even after all these years, and John knew that. John always knew what he needed.

“Thanks,” Templeton murmured after a few minutes had passed, and the sun had dropped even lower in the sky. Only traces of red left now, reflecting on the calm waters of the ocean, and the first stars were beginning to shine high overhead. Not a cloud anywhere to be seen, he noticed, and he smiled again as his husband’s calloused hand began rubbing soothing circles over his chest. “Is Kayla still coming over tomorrow?”

“I think so,” John replied after a moment, and he could hear the frown as his husband suddenly doubted his memory. Then, after a moment – “Yes, I remember her saying she would be over for lunch. She’s bringing the twins, too.”

“That’ll be good. They’re getting so big, already.” Kayla was Bosco and Murdock’s oldest daughter, now a mother herself. Their two dearest friends had adopted six children in the end, and fostered many more over the years, and Kayla lived nearest to her Uncle John and Uncle Temp, visiting them frequently. 

“Six months old, now.” Amazement in John’s voice, and Templeton could only shake his head in agreement. Where had the time gone? It seemed like only yesterday she was nervously telling them she was pregnant, worried about not being married yet even though her boyfriend was standing by her. He and John had only just moved into their new, smaller home, after their beloved dog had passed away and Templeton’s condition had first been diagnosed, and she had been one of their first visitors after Bosco and Murdock had helped them settle in. 

He couldn’t resist teasing his husband a little more, not given such a perfect opportunity. “You think they’ll call you Grandpa John?”

“Brat,” came the good-natured response, followed by another deep chuckle. Templeton laughed too, for a moment, before that dry cough took over and he had to simply breathe again for a minute, glad of the oxygen tank by his side. “Easy, easy,” his husband murmured, clearly trying and failing to conceal the worry in his voice. 

The cough faded as soon as it had started, and he tried to sit up a little straighter still, John helping him and piling cushions behind his back. “Hate this,” he gasped, but his husband hushed him again, guiding him back into a comfortable position with his head leaning on John’s shoulder.

“I know, sweetheart.” Pain in his husband’s voice, obvious to Templeton’s ears – after a lifetime spent with this incredible man, he knew every nuance of that smooth voice, every hint of emotion. “I hate it too.”

It was hard to be truly angry at the situation, though. Templeton had never thought he would live to be this old, nor this happy, in spite everything they’d been through. Back when he’d first signed up for the Army, then for Ranger training, he’d expected to go out in a blaze of glory, dying in a hail of bullets and never knowing what hit him. Then, once he’d met John, he’d wanted his death to mean something, perhaps to die saving the older man’s life, or at the very least dying for a cause, a reason. 

Even after he and his colonel had finally fallen into each other’s arms, he’d never really believed he would grow old, even though he’d wanted to grow old with John so very badly. All those years living a life on the edge, bullets and bombs and knives a constant danger, and he figured that would be what ended things for him – something quick, sharp, painful, sudden. As long as he died in his lover’s arms, that was all that mattered.

Instead, they had survived all those dangers, all four of the team together. Yes, they had scars and old wounds that still ached in the cold weather. Yes, they had all been in the hospital at one time or another, Templeton more often than most, but they had all made it through. Murdock and Bosco had both grown old disgracefully, not letting Murdock’s arthritis or Bosco’s diabetes slow them down even as they entered their seventies. John had grown into a distinguished older gentleman of course, slower and heavier but the same man he had always been. But for Templeton, sudden severe chest pains more than a year ago had led to a desperate rush to the hospital and the unexpected discovery that his heart was failing him. 

It still seemed impossible, and unfair. Not now, it couldn’t be, not now his heart was finally full and free. His heart had beaten strong and steady all those years with love for John, love for his two best friends, and love for all their adopted children, the extended family they had built around themselves. But now, simple old age had taken its toll, and Templeton was suddenly the slowest and the weakest of them all. In times gone by he would have hated that, but he knew he had surprised everyone around him by accepting it instead. Better that he went first, he figured, rather than having to watch his husband die slowly instead. Better than having to try to find a way to live without the older man by his side. 

But at the same time, if he could spare John from the pain of watching him die instead, he would. In a heartbeat.

“How is it?” his husband whispered in his ear, as if sensing the direction his thoughts had taken. “Do you need to lie down?”

“No. I’m right where I need to be. The only place I want to be.” He was taking the medication the doctors prescribed, following their endless instructions, eating what he was supposed to be eating and avoiding what he shouldn’t. Using the oxygen when his breathlessness grew too bad, as it did more and more frequently now. He might have years left, or his heart could fail at any moment – in a strange way, that was comforting to him. He’d lived with uncertainty for most of his life; at least now, he knew what was coming and how it would all end, even if the exact timing was still something of a question. That much alone was a gift, pure and simple. “I love you, you know that, right?”

A soft, warm laugh from his husband. “And I love you too, Templeton. More than anything.” A pause. “You’re sure you aren’t too cold?”

“I could never be cold in your arms.” At that, John’s arms tightened even further around his slender body, still careful not to put too much pressure on him. As John had gained a little weight, it had fallen away from Templeton’s aging body too quickly, a sure sign of his growing weakness. He bruised too easily now, but John had never hurt him, and never would. Templeton snuggled a little closer, sighing a happy little sigh when his head settled under his husband’s chin once more. “Mmm, perfect.”

“You’re perfect,” came the predictable response, but Templeton just smiled, watching as the last of the sun finally dropped out of sight and night fell properly over their little piece of beach. The sudden and near-complete darkness took a moment to adjust to, before suddenly it was as if all the stars in the night sky were switched on at once. Only the thinnest sliver of moon visible, and just so many thousands of stars, some twinkling brightly, others just a steady, constant light in the dark. 

They did this every night now, watching until the stars finally came out and the last of the birds fell silent. He could never grow bored of this, of being in his husband’s arms, the two of them together and at peace after the difficult lives they had led. But Templeton found he was tired now, a deep and all-consuming tiredness that had settled in his bones gradually as the last few weeks had passed. “I’m going to close my eyes for a bit, John,” he whispered, doing just that as his beloved husband gently tugged their shared blanket a little higher still, tucking it loosely around Templeton’s neck with loving hands.

“You do that, Temp.” That wonderful, warm hand slipped back into place on his chest, resting right above his heart, the heart that had belonged to John since Templeton had been just a teenager known to everyone simply as Face. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Love you,” he whispered again, feeling his old, tired body giving in completely to his husband’s strength and sheer presence, feeling sleep pulling him under as the waves crashed softly on the shore and the stars shone above them.

“And I love you, my darling boy.” As sleep finally claimed him, he felt warm lips kiss his forehead once more, before the darkness gave in to the brightest of lights. His heart, heavy and slow for so long now, was light and free once more. And he knew he was at peace.


End file.
